


Fork in the road

by tcourtois



Series: Fork in the road [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:59:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcourtois/pseuds/tcourtois
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything in life can change in just a second, but not many people get to see both forks in the road.</p><p>Two paths from one event, one that sees you save your marriage, the other that leads you into the arms of your husband’s team mate.</p><p>Ava and Mats have known each other since they were fourteen. Theirs was the unbreakable marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fork in the road

Ava

“Ava, you’ve worked such long hours recently. Seriously, go home.” I looked across the office to Emma, who stood with her hand on her hip. I wasn’t prepared to be defiant today.

“Only if you insist.” I laughed, collecting my coat from behind the reception.

“It’s Christmas. Besides, how long do you get to spend with that gorgeous husband of yours at Christmas? It’s the only break you have together until the summer. Enjoy it!” She followed closely behind me as she encouraged me to go home early.

She was right that I had very limited time with Mats all to myself, he was always having to run off to training, to games and events.

“I’m not feeling so great.” I said it as if I were thinking out loud, blurting the words as soon as they came to mind. I stumbled then, towards the door. I heard the sound of Emma’s boots against the marble floor, but nothing besides as I reached for the door.

 

I.

I pushed the door open without fainting or falling through it and mumbled a brief reply to Emma, who stood behind me looking concerned. She often looked concerned for me though. She was a mother hen, following us all around to ensure that we were alright. You never would have thought that we were all health care professionals.

It was lightly drizzling as I walked out from beneath the shelter that the door to our building gave us. To my surprise, and luck, there was a cab waiting at the curb with no passenger inside. The driver was casually flicking through a copy of Bild, which he seemed disinterested in.

I tapped lightly on the window, my hair blowing in front of my face. I’d underestimated how cold it was out, and hadn’t worn a hat, or scarf and my coat was tattered and old. I’d refused Mats’ offers to buy me a new one, even though I was eyeing a particular one. It was too expensive for me to afford on my salary, and I refused to use the joint credit card that sat in my purse.

“Where to miss?” the driver asked.

I leant close to his window so that he could hear me over the whistling of the wind and gave him my address. He whistled then.

“Fancy address, well get in. I wouldn’t want to leave you out in the cold.” He unlocked the doors centrally then, and I walked around the car to get into the passenger seat, placing my handbag on my lap. I was wary of being in a car with a stranger, but this guy seemed ok.

Thankfully we had settled upon a house not far outside Dortmund, so the drive out there took only 15 minutes in a steady flow of traffic, and as I paid the driver, I slipped him an extra €30 because it was Christmas, and because he hadn’t tried to make awkward conversation with me.

I got out and started up the seemingly never ending path to our front door. Mats’ car I noticed was in a different position to usual. He’d parked in my spot, instead of inside the garage. My car was currently being used by my brother across the city who had managed to get himself into an accident and written off his own car. I hoped that he wouldn’t do that to mine.

I rummaged around in my bag for my keys, finally finding them at the bottom beneath some chocolate wrappers. I made a mental note to get rid of those later.

I cursed myself as the keys slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor.

“Shit.” I mumbled.

I bent to pick them up, running a hand through my hair as I tried to compose myself. Christmas was a stressful enough time without me starting the holiday season off in a panic. I already had Mats’ family on my mind. They were going to be spending the holidays with us for the first time since we had been married. The pressure for me to impress them was always present. Mats’ mother is a sports journalist and extremely eloquent, and she raised her son the same way. I wasn’t all that sure if she liked me, or if she tolerated me and looked down upon me.

I tried to think what I would cook for them as I slipped through the door quietly and took my shoes off, placing them on the rack next to Mats’. There were a pair that I didn’t recognise on the other side. A pair of Louboutins.

They didn’t look like they were mine. I only owned one pair, the classic black pumps that Mats had given me for my 18th birthday, which coincided with our 4th anniversary that year.

They looked like the tacky sort of shoes that his mother would wear, which filled me with sudden dread. She couldn’t have come early could she?

“Mats!” I called up the stairs.

He didn’t respond and so I ran upstairs, dodging the various things on the landing, his kit bag, a pair of Nike boots, a box from Adidas (unopened) and a discarded t shirt. I cursed him under my breath for making such a fucking mess. His mother would have seen it of course and would blame it on me and brand it ‘poor housekeeping’.

I flung our bedroom door open then, and walked in briskly.

It took a second for me to register the scene in front of me. My husband, as bare as the day he came into the world, on top of his ex-girlfriend and my childhood enemy, Cathy Fisher. They scrambled to cover themselves with the sheets, and Mats moved towards me.

“Do not leave that bed, do not say anything. I don’t want to hear it. I’m going to walk out of here, and go to stay with my brother. Enjoy explaining this to your mother.” I turned then, and walked out the way I had come, slamming the bedroom door behind me.

As I made my way out of the house, and down the driveway I willed myself not to cry. Although I felt a throbbing pain in my chest, I did not feel that I could actually bring myself to tears.

 

II.

“Ava! Ava!” All I could hear was Emma shouting above me, she leant over me, dabbing my forehead with a wet rag.

I felt dizzy still, and everything seemed a little too bright. I blinked a few times to clear my vision.

“Can you hear me?” she asked.

I nodded, my throat feeling too dry to speak.

“I’ve called the paramedics. No arguing, you need to be seen by someone. You’re not the sort of person that faints at nothing.” She helped me to sit up and got me a glass of water.

The water was nice and cool, and as I drank I started to feel a little better, the dizziness settling in my stomach.

“I’m fine.” I mumbled.

That did not stop Emma from ushering in the two paramedics. By then I was able to stand on my own, even though she insisted that I sit down in case I fell for the second time and hit my head. I could feel a bruise forming from where I had hit the marble the first time, but honestly I did not want all of the fuss.

They asked me questions, and shone a light into my eyes. I wasn’t very forthcoming with my answers, and so Emma decided that she would step in and answer them for me.

“She is stressed. I tried to let her go home early today because she has her in laws for Christmas and her mother in law is a real witch.” I looked pleadingly at Emma willing her to stop. I was tired and didn’t feel much like spending a night in the hospital. I had far too many things to do at home.

“Honestly I’m not that stressed.” I looked at both paramedics and they nodded to each other before one spoke.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with you Mrs Hummels, but I would suggest that you make sure that you’re eating right and drinking plenty of fluid this holiday season, and I don’t just mean the alcoholic kind. Take it easy and we shouldn’t be seeing you again.”

“Oh thank you so much.” Emma said, and then as she led them out, she thanked them again for seeing that her friend was ok. She was absolutely nuts, but I did love her. How many people in this world can say that they have a true friend like that who worries almost non-stop about someone other than themselves? I hadn’t found many in my husband’s circle of friends that was for certain.

“Could you drive me home Emma? I’m late, and I’ve missed the bus.” I looked through the bay window at the front of the office, and looked for a cab, but as usual there were none. Cabs were so rare on our street that you almost never saw one.

“Of course.” She grabbed her keys from the side and followed me out of the building, locking up after us as we were (as usual) the last people to leave.

“How’s the divorce?” I asked her, as soon as we were inside her Mercedes. I knew that this subject would get her wound up about her axe wound of a husband and she would forget all about my troubles. It would even distract her from coming to the door and telling Mats about my little accident.

“Can you believe that he has moved the little bitch into his apartment already? And you know he is ignoring all of the court papers instead of agreeing to the settlement. I’ve given him everything that he asked for and yet, he still hangs onto me. I can’t move on while I still have his last name. It’s like he has me in a chokehold.” I grabbed her hand then as I heard her voice break. Tears started to pour from her eyes then and I squeezed her hand harder.

When we pulled up outside of my house I wrapped my arms around her and held her for a moment as she sobbed. I rubbed her back and shushed her, hoping that I was soothing in some way. She would have known what to do if it were me in her position, but it wasn’t, the strong one was the broken one.

“You’d better go inside Ava, he’ll be waiting for you and you need to get things ready for the witch.” She laughed through her tears then and wiped them on the back of her sleeve.

“Call me later ok? We’ll have a gossip while I’m in the bath or something. Mats will probably be having some people over and I’ll try to sneak away. Take care of yourself.” I told her, unbuckling my seat belt.

“No Ava, you take care of yourself.” I nodded, and got out of the car.

I looked back at her a few times as I walked to the door. I pulled my keys out of the inside pouch of my hand bag and turned the right one in the lock, waving to her as she finally pulled away.

“Babe!” I heard as I walked through the door.

“Mats?” I called to him.

“In the kitchen!”

I walked to the kitchen, in utter confusion, to find my husband wearing an apron.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m making cookies. I only started about 15 minutes ago but they’re in the oven now and they smell so good. Plus, I did all of the washing up, so you come home to treats and zero mess.” He grinned, like he was very happy with myself.

I walked over to him then, and wrapped my arms around his middle. He was pressed back against the counter and I lay my head against his chest, sighing softly.

“Rough day?” he looked down at me, then pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“I fainted and Emma went nuts about it. She called the paramedics.” I spoke softly to him, then looked up. In the light now, he could clearly see the bruise on my forehead.

“Jeez Ava, you’re growing a second head!” he prodded the bruise and I yelped, swatting him on the arm.

“Hey!”

“Oh my poor baby. You work hard leading up to Christmas and worry about my family coming over and then this.” He pressed his lips against the bump that was forming where the bruise was, just slightly brushing them over the area.

“Not anymore. I was told to take it easy, and seeing as you’re already wearing the apron. You can prepare the dinner.” I smiled properly for the first time today, he melt my heart sometimes, took me back to the goofy 14 year old kid I had fallen in love with, and been off-on with for years.

“I love you, you know.” He said, his voice taking a sudden serious tone.

“I know.”


End file.
